


the devil’s voice is sweet to hear

by izzygone



Series: the path to paradise begins in hell [2]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Car Sex, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Roughness, Semi-Public Sex, Sex on a Car, Unsafe Sex, but the tag is nonetheless accurate, that last tag makes it sound kinda fluffy, which it really isn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-22 23:47:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11977647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzygone/pseuds/izzygone
Summary: Someone came onto my tumblr and was like "please post a sequel to if u chase the devil youre going to get burned" so I did that.(It's just Ronan and Gansey fucking on a car)





	the devil’s voice is sweet to hear

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by an anon on my tumblr. I really wasn't planning to write a sequel to that fic but... then I did. 
> 
> This hasn't been beta'd, but I want credit for asking _twice_ on tumblr.

Gansey’s on his feet and out of the car before he realizes he made the decision to do so. He wants… well, he doesn’t know exactly what he wants. He knows he needs to be with Ronan, though. Knows he needs to… _touch_. He’s like a marionette on a string, being pulled in Ronan’s direction not exactly _unwillingly_  but at least a little without his own volition. It isn’t an entirely unknown sensation; Gansey loves Ronan deep in his bones and often finds himself drawn to him, but this feels a little different. A little more chaotic. A little more _dangerous_.

And Gansey is mortified. Well, he _should_  have been but… He couldn’t really reconcile the person he was a few moments ago - hot, needy, tugging unabashedly at his cock while Kavinsky and Ronan watched, while he watched _them_  - with the person he really was. Or the person he should have been, tried to be. This was not the behavior of a presidential hopeful's son. 

He can already hear the screech of an Evo pulling away as Kavinsky leaves them in the dust when he reaches Ronan and he’s just… _weak,_ so much so he nearly stumbles.. He knows what he should do, and he even _wants_  to do it - pick Ronan up, put him back together again, piece by piece, whatever it takes. 

But that’s not all he wants.

 _Fuck_. 

Gansey has never seen Ronan like this. So… vulnerable. Up close, he can see so much more. Ronan’s all pale skin, and covered in so many scars, _god_ , Gansey wants to map _every_. _single. one._  Maybe start up a journal like the one he has for his Glendower search. Discover every one of Ronan’s secrets, explore all of his parts, know every single intimate detail of his body. It makes him a little dizzy and he can’t help it, feels completely out of body as he reaches and just _touches_. Ronan’s skin is inflamed and turned pink, whether from embarrassment, the burn of the hot Virginia sun above them, or Kavinsky’s rough treatment, it’s impossible to know. And Gansey’s fingers are long and cool but Ronan let’s out a hiss like they’ve burned him.

Or possibly like they’re the best thing to have ever touched his skin.

Gansey doesn’t really understand what he’s doing or why, he just moves his fingers gingerly along, starting out safe, near Ronan’s shoulder blade. He traces scars all the way down. Could Ronan have done this to himself? _Impossible_ , but worse, would else could have made these marks? Gansey feels lightheaded again, a rage like that he felt when he first arrived at the fairgrounds rushing back to him. _If it was Kavinsky who made these marks…_ Gansey isn’t a jealous person. He isn’t. 

He just wants all of Ronan, in all ways, now and forever.

 _God_ , he’s such an asshole. This is what Adam is always talking about. _You can’t treat people like things, Gansey_.

But Ronan doesn’t feel like a thing. He feels alive. _Very_ alive. Each glance of Gansey’s fingers over Ronan’s skin results in Gansey biting his lip, and Ronan hissing out his approval, but neither of them speaks. There’s a magic in this, in Gansey’s fingertips tracing the lines of each scar, of each vertebrae down Ronan’s spine, and speaking felt like a dangerous way to break the spell. So Gansey keeps tracing, and Ronan keeps leaning over the car, shuddering with each movement as Gansey gets closer and closer -

They should really stop this. _Gansey_ should really stop this. He considers himself a pretty responsible person, and he knows, he _knows_  when he’s putting himself in danger but… He can’t help it. He feels magnetized to the spot on Ronan’s body where he is the most open, the most vulnerable. It’s like Ronan’s hole is beckoning him. It’s the same sensation Gansey feels when he just knows he needs to _find_  something, the same sensation that pulled him toward this insane Glendower search. _If you had a special knack for finding things, you owed the world to look_.

But it won’t take much searching to find what he seeks, and he’s getting dizzy again with the knowledge. It’s _fascinating_ , just another one on top of the million fascinating details about Ronan. He’s so _thin_ , practically emaciated, and his hole is just.. _god_ , how had he managed to take Kavinsky so easily? Even from his vantage point in the car, it’d been obvious to Gansey that Kavinsky didn’t drive flashy cars to make up for something. Did it hurt? How wet was he? Wetter now, must be. 

Gansey can’t - Gansey _shouldn’t_  but he- he just _has_ to, has to touch. Has to feel it, has to know for himself. His fingertips are inching closer and _god,_  how did Ronan feel inside? Soft? Hot and slick with Kavinsky’s spit, lube, come? He loses all his higher functions for a second and his curiosity gets the better of him and suddenly he’s  _touching_ , his fingers gliding over the entrance and _oh fuck_ they're in before Gansey remembers, before he even thinks to ask, all old-money politeness, _is this okay?_  But Ronan moans like it’s better than racing, better than _Kavinsky_  and shoves back onto Gansey’s fingers and _oh fuck oh fuck_ , are they doing this? They can’t be doing this. Not out here, not over this car, not when Kavinsky’s come is still leaking out of Ronan’s abused hole.

But they are because Gansey’s fingers are inside him, two of them, without any effort, and that fact makes Gansey whine.

Ronan’s getting hard again, and he can feel where Gansey’s still-unzipped chinos are rubbing against his inflamed flesh and _goddamn it_. Thank god Kavinsky isn’t still around to witness this, isn’t around to see every taunt he’d ever cursed out about Gansey coming true.

They shouldn’t be doing this but it’s too late, Gansey’s leaning against him and making a keening sound against the back of his neck and Ronan wants it _so badly_ he’s rocking wildly back and forth, trying to get more, _just a little bit more_  and gritting his teeth against his need. Gansey feels _so good_  inside him, so much better and so much worse than Kavinsky - _fuck_ , with Kavinsky at least… well, at least it never meant much. Kavinsky never expected much, never expected anything after they were through. It never meant anything beyond the scratching of an itch, beyond getting what Ronan needs and what he can’t get from anyone else.

Except, well, apparently there _is_ someone else.

Someone needs to say something, _do_ something. Ronan’s losing his mind, so little of Gansey ( _so much, too much, not enough)_ inside him and he can’t keep it together, can’t express anything beyond a dirty, low moan. He just came a few minutes ago but he needs this so much more. He needs Gansey, _more_ of Gansey, right _now_.

 _Fuck_ , someone should _say something_.

But Gansey is lost for words in a way he rarely is, mind wrapped up in the strange and beautiful sensation that is Ronan coming apart around his fingers. How have they not been doing this every day, all day, forever? So much for Gansey to discover, how did he not even realize -

“ _Fuck_ ,” It comes out as a harsh whisper and it takes Gansey an embarrassing long moment to realize it’s Ronan speaking. He’s always been so much braver, “Do it.” His voice is low and thick and it has Gansey breathing harder against his neck, fingers twisting inside him, one hand alternatingly gripping his exposed hip, too hard and then not hard enough. 

“ _Do it_ ,” Ronan’s wits and voice are recovering but Gansey’s still frozen. He can’t, he _shouldn’t_ , he wants… He’s so hard and why, god _why_  did Ronan choose this place and this time to offer him this?

“Damnit, Gansey, I need you to fuck me.” It’s definitely not a whisper, it’s more like a command, and it’s definitely true; Ronan doesn’t lie.

And that’s what spurs Gansey into action. He _needs_ , more than he ever has, he needs to give Ronan what he wants. And it’s so easy when it’s what he wants too, and his dick is already out and Ronan is already slick and bucking against him and -

 _We don’t have a condom_ , it’s Gansey’s rational brain returning, where has it been all night? _We can’t do this. Unsafe, unsafe_. Gansey never throws caution to the wind. 

Except.

Except, of course, when Ronan is involved. So gently, so,  _so_ gently it’s actually physically painful to hold himself back, gently he releases his fingers from Ronan’s slick-tight hole and Ronan makes a noise Gansey immediately categorizes as the best sound he’s ever heard, period, full stop, forever.

He doesn’t think. He doesn’t want to and he _can’t_  because if he does that rational part of his brain will catch up, and right now this isn’t just what they both want, it’swhat they both need. 

 _Need need need need_. 

Need to give Ronan what he wants.

Need to know what Ronan feels like from the inside. 

Need to wash away what Kavinsky has done to him, left inside him, and fill him up all over again.

Need to leave a mark more permanent, something so Kavinsky and everyone and the world knows Ronan doesn’t belong to them. He belongs to Gansey, and Gansey can take care of all of his needs. Even this one. 

It’s that thought that has Gansey shoving Ronan just shy of too-roughly down against the car again, has him pressing his dick against the spot his fingers just vacated, pressing _just enough_ and into the sweet and tempting heat.

 _Mine mine mine_.

Suddenly, Gansey knows the reason Kavinsky called him here. The reason he’d been given that little show, and why he's now putting on one of his own. These dirty, possessive thoughts are exactly the same as Kavinsky had when he was in this position. They both want to own Ronan, want to prove their claim. But the truth is something different. Ronan owns himself. And he always gets what he needs - it’s more and more evident with each thrust he makes back onto Gansey’s cock 

"Stop fucking thinking,” Ronan punctuates each word with a rolling thrust back, taking Gansey’s cock deeper inside him, “And fucking fuck me.” 

It’s such a quintessentially _Ronan_ thing to say that it actually works. Gansey can’t believe he’s been thinking about anything else with Ronan’s tight, come-slick hole flexing around him. He looks down, _oh god_ , he’s _inside_ Ronan. It feels... it feels unbelievable. It’s not even something his mind or his body can comprehend. It’s a beautiful, wet-warm glove around him. His vision sparks from it. It’s better than doing it by himself or having his dick sucked by any one of the random girls that hang around after the Aglionby rowing matches by around _a million percent_. And he can’t stop - can’t stop bucking his hips forward, meeting Ronan’s every thrust even though he _wants -_ well, he’s not absolutely certain what he wants. He wants to slow down, he wants to categorize everything happening around him, wants to _understand_ how they got here. But the only thing he can do is think _Ronan Ronan Ronan_. 

 _Is this a dream?_ Ronan can’t fully believe everything that is happening around him. Is that really Gansey, his beautiful, straight-as-an-Aglionby-rowing-boat, best friend, fucking into him? Could this happen in reality? And if so, how did he not know his best friend had a goddamn _monster_ for a cock? Even with the stretching and Kavinsky’s cock before him, Ronan feels the stretch down to his very bones. He’s so _full_ and all he wants is _more more more_.

It’s immediately apparent he’s not going to last. He just came but coming with Kavinsky inside him and coming with Gansey is a different situation entirely. Gansey has absolutely no skill. He’s going wildly along with the pace Ronan has set, holds him down against the hood of the Mitsubishi but it’s almost _absentmindedly._ He’s strong enough to do it without trying and that’s _so damn hot_ Ronan feels a hot splash of precome slide down his dick. He never realized the kind of strength Gansey hides behind those hideous polo shirts. And Ronan’s never even said - barely even let himself _think_ \- about Gansey this way, and now it’s all happening and it’s so much more and better than he could have ever even dreamt.

Gansey’s starting to lose his mind a little, he’s pretty sure. He can’t think of anything except how Ronan feels, how he looks pinned below him, he wonders if there’s something he should be _doing_. God, he wishes he’d had time to research because he’s so woefully underprepared. There’s a spot, right? A spot in Ronan that Kavinsky was hitting that made him come so completely undone, but Gansey doesn’t know, hasn’t the faintest idea how to angle, how best to strike at it. Ronan doesn’t seem to mind; he’s making little noises that Gansey distinctly registers as pleasant, thank god, because he can’t find it in him to ask. He’s always considered himself a generous lover but he knows instinctively that isn’t what Ronan is after. When Ronan is with Kavinsky, he’s all hard lines and rough touches. And it’s hard to forget that this is _still_ Ronan with Kavinsky. They’ve got this gaudy white car beneath them and the ghost of Kavinsky’s taunts still in the air and, of course, _Gansey is fucking Ronan with Kavinsky’s own come as lube._

Oh, _fuck_ , Gansey’s brain misfires for a second again when he thinks that: _I am fucking Ronan right now_ , and he lets out another involuntary moan. He’s fucking Ronan, it feels fucking fantastic, and he’s going to come _inside_  his best friend.

And, goddamnit, he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t but he really, _really_ wants to do that. The idea triggers something possessive and dangerous inside him and suddenly it’s all he can think about, filling Ronan up, painting Ronan's whole body in his come, a goddamn neon sign to everyone else: _mine_.

 _God_ , he’s such an asshole.

But it’s too late to think of that now, of even considering stopping. Gansey’s going to come inside Ronan just like he wants to, and it’s not going to take very long to get there. He just came what feels like minutes ago, and he knows he should last a longer because of that but, damnit, he’s still a teenage boy and he’s watching his dick slide in and out of Ronan, so much easier than ought to be possible, and Ronan’s hole is flexing around him weakly and it’s so good and suddenly, _oh fuck_ , he’s right on the edge. But he can’t, he can’t - he can’t leave Ronan hanging. But _how -_

It takes an embarrassingly long moment for Gansey’s brain to catch up with his hand, which is already reaching around to take hold of Ronan’s cock. _Of course_. He silently thanks his hindbrain for this motion, _why_  hadn’t he considered this option first - he makes a mental note _research._

Ronan is achingly hard, and Gansey’s too-hot hand against him feels like holy water on a vampire. He hisses with the perfect pain of it and wants to _warn_  Gansey somehow, tell him that this simple motion, the wrapping of rowing-worn calluses around his dick is going to be his absolute undoing, but it’s already too late. Ronan comes as hard as he ever has in his life, harder than with Kavinsky, harder knowing whose hands, whose cock has turned him into this tangled, come-soaked wreck of a boy.

Gansey is taken completely off-guard; he’s barely even _touched_ Ronan when he comes apart, and the shock and terrifying _hotness_ of it surprises the orgasm right out of Gansey. He loses all control at the flutter of Ronan’s hole spasming around him and for a second he panics. He _can’t_ do this, how _unsanitary_. But it’s already done and the thought is honestly laughable to the point of hilarity. They were way beyond the point of unsanitary.

Gansey can’t help but hold on - he releases Ronan’s dick but grabs desperately at his hips, holding him still as he spends himself. Ronan makes no move to separate himself but Gansey holds tighter anyway. He’s honestly a little panicked because his cock is soften rapidly and he can’t imagine leaving Ronan, not now, _not ever_. 

And then he’s _really_  panicking because _oh god, oh god_ , what have they done? Impulsive, what a fool, he's an asshole and an idiot at that, _he just fucked his best friend_. What’s going to happen now? What does this mean? Oh, how could he risk everything, risk his friendship with Ronan, the thing he values most, over something as rash as this? And they didn’t even use a condom, Gansey was always so _careful_ , so smart about this kind of thing - 

“You’re thinking again,” Ronan’s voice is raspy like it’s been too long since he was properly hydrated and, _god, why hadn’t Gansey thought to bring water? Aftercare is so important -_ “Stop it.” Ronan’s voice is clearer and he rocks back, confusing Gansey’s dick which twitches like it wants to do this all again. “Stop freaking out and let’s get out of here. This car is fucking hot."

Gansey can’t believe it, he actually barks out a laugh. Of course Ronan knows that he’s already spiraling - he’s Gansey’s best friend after all, and _of course_ Ronan isn’t going turn on him over this. 

There’s a sloppy, wet sound as Gansey peels himself off Ronan’s flushed skin, his cock twitching feebly again at the sight of come dribbling from Ronan's abused hole as they separate. His rational brain had been right earlier, this i _s_  incredibly unsanitary.

It takes a terrifyingly long moment for Ronan to pull himself up off the hood of the Mitsubishi and Gansey feels the panic flicking back through him, if he hurt Ronan, he’d never forgive himself - 

But then Ronan is up, a wicked smile spreading across his face as he tugs his shirt back over himself, “Next time, we’re doing this on the Pig.”

 _Next time,_ Gansey’s heart seizes at the words. They can’t do this again, they _shouldn’t,_ there’s so many things to consider, so many things they need to discuss, they’re going to have to really _talk_ about this - he feels Ronan’s hands grab his face, tugging him forward so he can’t do anything for a second besides stare into Ronan’s razor-sharp, perfect eyes but then he’s not thinking anything because Ronan is kissing him and _yes, yes they can do this again_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm the-real-izzygone on tumblr and, as made evident by this sequel-I-never-planned-to-write, I do take prompts and requests.


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